


What You're Made Of

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Marriage Law AU, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Muggleborn Katie Bell, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: Katie had snapped her wand herself and told the Ministry official where to stick the splintery pieces. That same evening, she had left to live with her parents, vowing never to return ever again. Not for a million Galleons, not until the law was repealed. She refused to allow the Ministry to trade her off like cattle, even if it was in the name of the Greater Good.Never ever.Over her dead body.She would not give in.But she was back again less than a year later, her tail between her legs.****Shortly after the war, the Ministry passed a new law to dilute the Pureblood bloodlines and give ever-dropping birth rates a boost. It's one thing to force people into matrimony, but you can't force them into bed or into something other than reserved politeness.Katie decides to sit out her sentence with her new husband until this whole mess gets resolved, determined not to get close. Fortunately, Marcus Flint is in full agreement and does everything in his might to avoid his wife. But sometimes, some things aren't that easy, as her friends can attest.Multiple pairings, multiple POV.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Graham Montague, Katie Bell/Marcus Flint, OFC/Marcus Flint, Terence Higgs/Alicia Spinnet
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	What You're Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimers apply: JK owns the wizarding world. I just play in her sandbox.

It was a quiet afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah Abbot, or whatever her name was these days, was busy polishing glasses. Next to her, Tom was busy explaining the differences between the various bottles of Ogden’s Finest lined on the shelves behind the bar. A gigantic fluffy black Kneazle that had adopted the Leaky Cauldron as his new home was sitting one of the stools in front of the bar. His bright yellow eyes were slowly roving around. It was almost as if he was a guard or a bouncer, ready to pounce if someone dared to cause problems for his humans. By far the rowdiest bunch in the pub this afternoon was a group of elderly witches sitting at the table in the middle of the pub.

With their pointy hats askew and their needlework forgotten in their laps, they downed cordial like no tomorrow. They gossiped about everyone and anyone worth discussing. Their current discussion, no-doubted fuelled by the third bottle of cordial shared between them and the newest Witch Weekly and yesterday’s Prophet, grew more and more heated. Pages of the newspaper were torn or crumbled into a ball out of sheer frustration. Crooked fingers jabbed the air as the silver-haired witches raised their voices, trying their best to emphasise their opinions. They fixed their increasingly angry glare at another occupied table, any pretence of class and manners long forgotten.

The object of the ladies’ rancour was seated at the very back of the pub, hidden in the shadows. Twenty-one-year-old Katie Bell pretended not to see the angry glares or hear her name be mentioned for the umpteenth time since walking in thirty minutes earlier. If those old birds intention was to make her uncomfortable, they needn’t had bothered. Ever since she had made up her mind a week ago, nervous energy had been wreaking havoc on her insides. This afternoon it manifested itself by an unstoppable desire to bop her knee and chew on the small strip of skin on her thumb. She was oblivious to the fact that she was chewing hard enough to draw blood until a fat drop fell on the magazine in front of her on the table. 

Katie stared at the deep red droplet. Naïve perhaps, but she had imagined the reactions to her return to go a tad bit different than this. After a year of forced absence from the wizarding world, she had been looking forward to her return, to see her old friends and come up with a plan to fight this evil they were faced with. But none of that had come true. Angelina was still on the run with a bounty on her head, Leanne had fled to family in France pretending to further her studies, and Alicia… poor Alicia was on indefinite bed rest according to her _husband_. Katie hastily wiped her cheeks as she let out a deep breath to calm the millions of thoughts that raced through her mind. She couldn’t get too distracted with her friends’ woes, not as long as she had her own shite to sort through today.

Katie dabbed the blood off the page with her sleeve and tried to concentrate on the article she’d started reading earlier. In no time, her eyes wandered to the photograph accompanying it. How could they not? It was nearly impossible to ignore it. A picture was worth a thousand words and you didn’t need to have Dumbledore’s deductive skills to figure out was happening in this one. 

_A final farewell._

The captured scene spoke of heartbreak without even needing to read the captions. A beautiful young woman was held tightly by her big-name Quidditch star lover. The woman, wizarding world’s sweetheart Desiree Greengrass was not only an ethereal beauty, but she was also exceedingly intelligent. Despite her young age, she was a highly sought-after Arguer. Not only that, Greengrass was also a humanitarian who ran her own orphanage for magical children orphaned during the war. Rumour also had it that she had single-handedly rescued infants from the clutches of rabid werewolves, and fought off a horde of Death Eaters during the Final Battle to save her fiancé. Katie reckoned that had Greengrass been a Muggle, she would’ve been declared a saint. 

Sighing in frustration, Katie pushed the magazine away and pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed shut. She let out slow, deep breaths to settle her nerves and the rampant emotions coursing through her body. She shouldn’t be here, she really shouldn’t, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t. Another look at the magazine, at the Quidditch star lover, and the brick in her stomach grew heavier; _he_ probably thought the same thing.

“What am I doing here?” Katie muttered as she dropped her face in her hands, her voice thick with sobs she was trying hard to swallow. 

A year ago, Katie had made the difficult decision to leave her magical life behind. The newly passed Marriage Act that gave the Ministry the power to marry off single witches and wizards over the age of eighteen or finished Hogwarts, whichever came first, to whoever based on blood status had driven her to it. In a fit of rage, Katie had snapped her wand herself and told the Ministry official – who had come by her flat to inform her about her match and what would happen if she refused to comply, where to stick the splintery pieces. That same evening, she had left to live with her parents, vowing to return to her Muggle roots and never to return ever again. Not for a million Galleons, not until the law was repealed. She refused to allow the Ministry to trade her off like cattle, even if it was in the name of the Greater Good.

Never ever.

Over her dead body.

She would not give in.

But less than a year later, here she was with her tail between her legs. Being away from it for far too long, she had failed wretchedly at Muggle life and had been utterly miserable because she just did not fit in. And despite her efforts to forget about it, she had missed her magical life and friends too much. It didn’t help that parents, who she loved dearly, only made her feel worse by their overenthusiasm at having their ‘old’ Katie back again. It was time to admit defeat. She couldn’t live without the most essential part of her life; her magic. Marriage to a stranger was the only thing standing between her and a new wand and her old life. 

_‘Don’t kid yourself, nothing will be the same again if you go through with this.’_

The scraping of a chair being pulled out broke Katie’s musings. Grimacing, she lowered her hands and slowly opened her eyes. 

_‘Perhaps, not a complete stranger,’_ she thought wryly as she recognised the smartly dressed, dark-haired man who had invited himself to sit at her table. Thick eyebrows were knitted together into a deep scowl. The hint of snarl was on his lips as he scrutinised her.

“Flint,” Katie greeted him curtly, wondering when he’d realise that those scare tactics of his didn’t work on her, never had at Hogwarts, and it certainly wouldn’t now. Then she realised that he wasn’t looking at her but at the Witch Weekly article she had been reading earlier. The tips of her ears reddened as she reached for it and tucked it away from sight. It was probably the last thing he wanted to see, probably thought she took great pleasure at ruining his life. “Sorry ’bout that.”

Scoffing, Flint rolled his eyes at her and turned in his chair, staring at the group of elderly witches who, in return, were studying them and whispering amongst themselves. He didn’t say a word, the only sound from him his heavy breathing, almost as if he was trying to stay calm. He was angry, furious even, that much was clear, and it was because of her. The silence between them grew heavier and heavier. It pressed down hard on Katie and almost made her rethink her decision to return. If this was a taste of the life that was awaiting her, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. 

_This mess they found themselves in was_ NOT _her fault._

“You want a butterbeer?” Katie asked in a feeble attempt to break the ice. 

Flint’s eyes briefly flitted in her direction. Then he firmly pressed his lips together into a thin white line, almost as if he was trying to keep himself from lashing out, and shook his head. 

“Something else, something stronger perhaps? I know I could go for a-”

“Just cut to the chase, Bell,” Flint cut her off sharply, anger and annoyance lacing his voice. “Why are you back? Why now?”

Katie shrugged and resumed the chewing on her thumb again. The coppery taste of her blood flooded her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to put into words to explain it all. Living her life in exile without her wand, her magic, far away from all the things that had formed her to the woman she was today, was even worse than being cursed in her seventh year. It felt like all her limbs were missing, almost as if her heart was ripped in two and one part was lost forever. But one look at Flint told her that he probably wouldn’t care. 

And why should he? 

If Katie had returned a few days later, the Ministry’s match would’ve become void, and he could’ve married his girlfriend he'd been with since their early Hogwarts’ years. Just like he had planned to do before the Marriage Law had come in to effect last year, a week before their intended wedding date. With Flint and Greengrass being Pureblood, their marriage license had been revoked as mandated by the Marriage Act. Their attempt to go ahead with the bonding ceremony had resulted in a two-month stay in Azkaban and a hefty fine. Eventually, they were released with the warning that their livelihoods would be ruined and their magic stripped if they tried to elope again. Flint and Greengrass had complied, sort of. 

Supported by her family and dozens of witches and wizards, Desiree Greengrass had started a lawsuit against the Ministry of Magic. According to Prophet, she had sworn that she wouldn’t rest until the law was overturned.

Apparently, such things took time. Who would’ve thought? 

“I couldn’t live without my magic any longer,” Katie finally answered lamely. She suddenly felt like an idiot for not doing more than just running away like a petulant little girl. Like Desiree Greengrass was doing.

“You’re Muggleborn, of course you can live without,” dismissed Flint annoyedly without looking at her still.

Katie jutted her chin high in the air. “I’m just as magical as you are. If you think it’s that easy, you try living without your wand for a while.”

Flint balled his hand into a fist, and again he looked as if he was about to curse her into oblivion. He didn’t. Instead, he rounded his cheeks and let out a slow breath. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He ran his hand through his dark hair and turned to look at her. It took him few more deep breaths before he spoke again. “Look, the sooner we get this over with, the better, yeah? I promised Des-“He caught himself and took another deep breath before he continued. “How do you want to go about it? The Ministry’s given us a month for courting and arranging the wedding…”

“You want to court me?” Katie scrunched up her nose, in distaste mostly but also to hide her hurt pride at seeing him shudder in disgust at the mere mention. She knew that she wasn’t as pretty as the witch in the magazine but did he have to be so obvious about it? He was hardly her knight in shining armour either.

After another world-weary sigh, Flint dropped his shoulder in resignation. “What do you want me to say, Bell? Pretend that it’s all rainbows and unicorn farts. Well, it’s not. I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and if you’d waited just a few more days to show your face, we could’ve lived our lives like we had planned before this whole mess.”

Katie opened her mouth to explain why she’d chosen to return now, that she didn’t have much choice in the matter. They would've stripped her from her magic for good once the grace period the Ministry had granted her was over. But Flint didn’t give her a chance.

“Let’s get this over with then, yeah?” Flint grumbled. “The registrar’s office is open until six. We can have a small reception next week or so if you want. It’ll take that long to prepare a room for Mum to prepare you a room anyway. Unless you had other ideas?”

“No!” Katie shook her head, again hurt by that look of disgust on his face. It wasn’t her fault that the law mandated that the couples shared a roof. “I’ll need to pack and.. explain…” Her fists clenched in her lap. “My parents-,” she began hesitantly, deciding that this was the best moment as any to bring it up. “They don’t know, they _can’t_ know. Mum and dad wouldn’t understand, probably lock me up in the cellar if they ever found out. I-I’ve told them I met someone…”

For a brief second, his expression softened as he nodded in understanding. “We’ll think of something.”

It didn’t escape Katie that Flint’s eyes flitted to the Witch Weekly that stuck out of her handbag. Anger twisted his features again as he turned away from her and stood up.

“For what it’s worth, Flint, I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Flint didn’t acknowledge any of it, just said, “Meet me at the Ministry in ten.”

“No, wait!” Katie reached out to him, catching his hand when he tried to walk away. Her cheeks flushed under his death glare, and she dropped his hand as fast as she’d grabbed it. “You’ll have to take me with you. I can’t travel alone- I’m restricted until….” she trailed off as she waved her hand, averting her eyes in shame and unease under his scrutiny. 

“Of course, your _magic_.” Flint let out another sigh as he rubbed his face, and cocked his head towards the fireplace at the front of the pub. When she didn’t move fast enough for his liking, he groaned. “Well? Bleeding hell, Bell, what are you waiting for? A written invitation? Get a move on!”

As Katie scrambled to collect her bag and jacket and hurried after him, she hoped that having her magic back would be worth the misery she undoubtedly signed herself up for.

One could only hope indeed.


End file.
